Halo
by xxfatalsoulxx
Summary: Three angels are sent by Heaven to bring good to a world that's falling into the clutches of darkness. Jem - the warrior, Tessa - the healer, and the youngest and most human - Clarissa. They must keep their identity a secret, which was pretty hard. Then, Clarissa meets Jace Herondale, neither of them able to resist the evident attraction. Will love save her or destroy her? VERY OOC


**Hey guys. This story is based off of Halo, by Alexandra Adornetto. I don't mean to copy the story, I swear. I just really love the trilogy and thought it would be super cool to combine it with TMI. I apologize if you think I am stealing the plot, and if you really do think so, you're right, because I am technically stealing the plot. Most of this is in my own words, although, I'll admit there are certain sentences which I've copied. This is all out of love for both series.**

 **Characters belong to Cassie.**

 ****Thanks to Rwch3l, my beta**

 **~xoxo, Rae**

* * *

Our arrival didn't exactly go smoothly. First of all, we planned to go unnoticed. Which, we mostly did, save for a newspaper boy who looked about to be in his early teen years.

He had been on his bike, and instead of getting off to place the rolls of paper on the front porches, he threw them, and grinned smugly whenever it hit a particular spot. A terrier barked from one of the gates, causing the boy to look in our direction.

A column of white light so bright it blinded the eyes appeared, and when it was gone, three strangers stood in the middle of the road. The boy gaped, wide eyed, newspapers forgotten. Perhaps it was despite the fact that we all had our glamours and had a human appearance, the unnatural glow to our skin still showed. It was a light similar to that of the moon, luminous and transparent. Or maybe because we were staring at our bodies as if we didn't know what exactly to do with them. Whatever the reason was, the poor boy fell off his bike in shock, his gaze glued to us. In unison, all three of us reached our hands out to him, as a gesture of peace. He only blanched further, his skin pale. That was when we realized how we must have looked. Three strangers, surrounded by strange light, wearing strange clothing, reaching out for him. The boy probably thought we were going to kill him. We should've smiled. Wasn't that what mundanes did to show friendliness? So we tried to contort our unused muscles to form a smile, but it must've turned out badly, for the boy took one last terrified look at us, and bolted across the street, his bike and abandoned newspapers still on the ground.

Jem took a step forward, reaching out to right the bike that the boy had left and propped it against the fence. The boy would have to return sooner or later to retrieve it.

I could already imagine what it would be like when the boy returned home. He would burst through the door, panting and sweating, and he would tell his parents everything he'd just seen. His mother would look at him in alarm, and ask him if he had a fever. His father would simply chuckle and tell him the mind plays tricks sometimes. He would reassure him that it was just an illusion, and he was probably tired.

We found Byron Street pretty easily, and walked along the sidewalk, looking around for Number 15. It had only been a mere minutes, yet our senses had already been assaulted from all directions. We came from a world where there was nothing but light, and down here, there were shadows, none of which I was used to. The only color I'd seen was white, pure white, and now, all of a sudden, I was able to see all sorts of colors, some I can't even name. I was able to feel the wind on my skin, the air a mixture of gasoline, with a hint of salt from the ocean. The worst part was the noise. It was loud, a cacophony of different sounds and voices blending together. A car honking in the distance, a baby wailing pitifully, an old door creaking as it was opened and closed.

"You'll get used to it," said Jem. The sound of him speaking startled me. Where I came from, we communicated with our minds, without a language. Jem's human voice, I discovered, was low and hypnotic.

"How long will that take?" I asked, wincing at the chrill cry of a seagull flying overhead. My own voice was melodic, kind of like a flute.

"Not long," Jem replied. "It's easier if you don't fight it."

As we walked further, the street was slightly uphill, and at the top of the very peak, stood our new home. Tessa was instantly charmed.

"Oh, it's wonderful! It even has it's own name!" she clapped her hands delightedly, pointing at a brass plaque that hung by the door. On the plaque, in an elegant script, was the word BYRON. Later, we realized all the nearby streets in this little town were named after English Romantic poets. Byron was to be both our home and our sanctuary while we were earthbound. It was a double-fronted, ivy-clad sandstone house set well back from the street behind a wrought-iron fence and double gates. It had a gracious Georgian façade and a gravel path leading to its flaking front door. The front yard was dominated by a stately elm, wrapped in a tangled mess of ivy. Along the side fence grew a profusion of hydrangeas, their pastel heads quivering in the morning frost. I liked the house—it looked like it had been built to weather any adversity.

"The key, Clarissa," Jem held out his hand. Looking after the key to the house was the only job I had been given. Fumbling around the pockets of my tattered dress, I heard Jem sigh deeply, a ghost of a grin gracing his lips.

"Please don't tell me you lost the key already."

"We fell from the sky," I huffed indignantly. "It's easy to lose things."

Watching me with an amused expression, Tessa giggled. "It's hanging around your neck."

Breathing a sigh of relief, I slipped off the chain and handed it to Jem. As we stepped into the hallway, we saw that no expense had been spared to prepare the house and suit it to our liking. The Divine Agents who'd sent us here had been meticulous with every detail.

Everything about the house suggested light. The ceilings were lofty, the rooms airy. Off the central hallway were a music room to the left and a living room to the right. Farther along, a study opened onto a paved rear of the house was an extension that had been modernized and was made up of an expansive marble-and-stainless-steel kitchen that spilled into a large den with Persian rugs and plump sofas. Folding doors opened onto an extensive redwood deck. Upstairs were all the bedrooms and the main bathroom with its marble vanities and sunken bath. As we walked through the house, its timber floors creaked as if in welcome. A light rain began to fall, hitting the surfaces of the house with a soft pitter-patter, as if welcoming our presence.

The first weeks we spent adjusting to our environment. We learned the daily routines mundanes were expected to perform. It wasn't easy learning everything. We would wake up and be shocked at how solid everything was. When we wanted to go somewhere, there were barriers we had to navigate around. I marveled at the physicalness of it all. Random objects caught my interest, and I would spend hours figuring out how it worked. Mundanes had such complex lives. There were devices to boil water, holes in the wall that could carry electricity, tubes that expelled water. I could see how uncomfortable Tessa and Jem were. I could see how much they wanted to return to the blissful silence where we came from, but I absorbed every moment of which I was on Earth, as overwhelming as it might be.

Every few evenings, a mentor would pop in, sitting in the armchair in the living room. One moment he wasn't here, and in another, he was. He always donned a white robe, his face completely covered. He acted as a messenger between the angels on earth and the powers above. He answered our questions and collected reports of any activities going on.

"The landlord asked for documents regarding our previous residence," Tessa told him during the first time he appeared.

"We apologize. Consider it taken care of," he answered. Although, his face remained unseen, when he spoke, white puffs of air came out from under his hood, like that of a person speaking on a cold winter day.

"How long until we get accustomed to our bodies?" Jem wished to know.

"It should take no longer than a few weeks," the mentor said. "That is, if you don't resist the change. It always depends," he added.

"How are the other emissaries doing?" Tessa, ever the caring one, asked.

"They are well. Some, like you, are slowly adjusting to mundane life. Others, unfortunately, were immediately engaged in battle," the mentor said solemnly. "There are many corners of the earth riddled with Agents of Darkness."

"Is it normal for toothpaste to give headaches?" I asked. I could see, out of the corner of my eye, Jem and Tessa flashing me stern looks. The mentor, however, seemed unfazed by my unusual question.

"Toothpaste contains strong chemical ingredients meant for killing bacteria. The headaches should be gone in a week's time."

After the mentor left, Jem and Tessa always stayed in the living room for private conversations I were never part of. I had to resort to hiding outside the doorway, trying to understand what they were talking about from the snippets of the conversations I managed to catch.

One of the hardest things about living as a mundane was taking care of our bodies. They needed protection, and nourishment, especially mine, because I was the youngest one. This was my first visit, and I've had no experience. Jem had been a warrior since the dawn of time. Tessa, although having not lived as long as Jem, had seen her fair share of the world, and the fact that she had healing abilities gave her an advantage over me as well. There were many times when I went for a walk only to return home shivering. It took a while for me to realize I was underdressed and needed warmer clothing. Although the cold didn't affect Jem and Tessa as much as affects me, their bodies needed maintenance as well. We pondered over why we felt faint by the afternoon, later discovering we needed to ingest food in order to keep our bodies energized. Preparing food was a long and complicated process, and of course Jem volunteered to take on the burden. There were many cookbooks stacked in the bookcases, every evening, Jem would be found with his nose stuck in one of them, trying to learn to cook.

Human contact was kept to a minimum. When the telephone rang, we never answered, partly because the device was a strange thing. It was all buttons and numbers and symbols we couldn't quite understand. Whenever the doorbell rang, we simply ceased all activity and stayed as quiet as possible, so as to give off the impression that we weren't home. We ventured out only when necessary, which was mostly when Jem needed groceries. Sometimes, either when dawn was just breaking or late into the night when everyone was asleep, we would go outside for short walks, when the streets were at their quietest. It was a way for us to feel connected to home, the closest thing it could get to the golden silence we were so used to. The only person we actually acquainted ourselves with was Father Mel, who was a priest in a small chapel by the ocean called Saint Mark's.

Father Mel was a good person, and we liked him. He took us for who we were, no questions, no prodding. He simply prayed along with us. In time, we hoped to have enough of an influence in this small town that everyone might come to this church every once in a while. They didn't have to come every Sunday. Perhaps when they were out running errands, they could stop by and light a candle. It wasn't much to ask, and we would be happy even if they pray from home.

Idris was small town by the water, the sort of place where nothing really ever changes. When most people were having dinner, the three of us would take walks on the deserted beach. One particular night, we walked onto the pier, where Tessa wanted to see the boats. As we drew closer, we could see the figure of a person sitting on the were fishing equipment next to him. The boy wore a tightly fitted shirt and shorts, showing off his lean, but muscled figure. He looked to be no more than 18. We turned to leave, but he had already caught sight of us.

"It's a nice night to be out for a walk, isn't it?" he smiled easily. Tessa and Jem only nodded. Deciding it was rude not to reply, I stepped forward.

"It is," I said. I suppose this was the first sign of my weakness. I couldn't help it—I was naturally curious, and humans seem to draw me in. Our mission required us to interact with them, but we weren't supposed to befriend them. Already, I had broken the rules. The right thing to do right now was to walk away, but instead, I gestured at his fishing bucket. "Caught anything?"

"I'm just here to relax," he explained, showing me his empty bucket. "If I catch any, I just throw them back in."

I take another step forward to get a closer look. In the moonlight, his blond hair gave a silvery sheen, flopping over his eyes, which were the color of molten gold. But what captivated me the most was his smile. He had dimples, and there was a chip on his incisor, which I found oddly endearing. _So that's how it's done_. Easy, effortlessly charming, and utterly, completely human. It was breathtaking. And as if my body had a mind of its own, I took yet another step towards him, pulled in by some unseen force. I could feel my siblings' scorching gazes on my back, but they went ignored.

He offered his fishing rod, as if sensing my curiosity. "Want to try?"

I debated on whether I should take it or not. As the two sides of my brain were clashing, Jem stood in and answered for me.

"Clarissa, we must take our leave."

I noticed the difference between the boy's and Jem's way of speaking. Jem's words sounded rehearsed, formal, whereas the boy spoke with a casual, easygoing manner.

"Maybe another time," the boy cast a glance at Jem, sensing his tension. Reluctantly, stepped away.

"That was impolite," I said to my brother once we were out of earshot. My words surprised even myself. We were angels. When did we ever care about being polite? Jem was created long before humankind, and he didn't understand their ways. _I_ didn't understand their ways. Yet, _I_ was scolding _him_ for lacking human traits.

"We must always be cautious," Jem said, as if he were speaking to a child. That child, of course, being me.

"Jem is right," Tessa agreed. "We aren't ready for human contact."

"I think I am," I said.

Turning around, I take another look at the boy. He was still watching us, a smile still on his face.


End file.
